


8 Days of Bucky

by nvaleintern (orphan_account)



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bodily Fluids, Come Swallowing, Corsetry, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fingerfucking, Kissing, Love, M/M, Medical, Medical Kink, Mile High Club, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Sweat, Teasing, Therapy, Touching, Wall Sex, Will update as I go along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/nvaleintern
Summary: 8 days of kinky Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan/Reader drabbles.This was supposed to be a '30 days typa challange but I grew tired and school got tough. Oh well.





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need an AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos or Comments on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

Every chapter is a (short) stand-alone smut drabble. Prompt (and warnings) are marked in the notes, when necessary. Chapter 1 serves as a 'Table of contents' – characters/people include: Bucky and Sebastian. Sometimes Steve and/or Sam. Have fun with the smut, ya' filthy animals.

Prompts based on [ChasingRiver's 30 Day OTP Porn Challange](http://chasingriversong.tumblr.com/post/39525363882/30-day-otp-porn-challenge)

 **1\. Medical Play:** Bucky gets brought back from a mission. Of course you need to check that everything's still where it needs to be.

 **2\. Teasing:** You are Sebastian's assistant. You're just doing your job.

 **3\. Bodily Fluids:** Bucky loves to run. You love to fuck. Perfect cardio workout.

 **4\. Sex at a wildly inappropriate location:** Sebastian and You join the Mile High Club. Welcome aboard.

 **5\. Explaining their unconventional relationship to a third party:** You listen in to one of Bucky's therapy sessions. Things don't go as planned.

 **6\. Corsets:** Sebastian loves to surprise you with new things. Being an actor gives him access to all kinds of props. Time pieces do have their perks.

 **7\. Anal/Pure Fucking:** Bucky is drunk and needs to blow off some steam. Second time's the charm?

 


	2. Medical Play - Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need an AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos or Comments on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

They bring him in on a gurney, strapped down by thick leather straps. Just a safety precaution, they said, but it still makes your heart race just a little bit quicker than usual.

Bucky's vest is ripped open – the first responder had to cauterize the wound before they transferred him back to Hydra facilities. It wasn't the best work but he'd live.

"You good?," the Hydra agent asks. There's a gash just right under his eye, it's maker strapped down on that very gurney, you're sure. Despite your gut screaming something else you nod a yes and take the keys from the guy. You can do this. Everything is fine. "Yes, you go report back to HQ."

Once left alone with the Winter Soldier you make sure to do everything like protocol. Any mistake could cost you your life, and Hydra its biggest asset. Breathe in. Check him for any neurological damage.

Pupil reaction normal. He knows where he is. Bucky squirms a little bit but otherwise appears to be healthy. It shouldn't surprise you, even though what was written on his file before he came in could easily kill four men.

"Do you feel any pain?," you ask in broken Russian because you have to. No response. " _Soldier_ ," the word seems wrong, but you fight past your shame and try to sound confident. "Do you feel any pain?"  
"No," he responds in a monotone voice. With Bucky it is never quite clear if he is under the influence of all the brainwashing they told you about or if by now this is just how he is.

"Good, I'm going to close up your wound."

With your suture kit all ready to go you get to work. The sharp needle pierces through the first layer of skin, it's nail hooked through the wound and out again on the other side. Your movements are as practiced and monotone as Bucky's trance-like voice.

He doesn't even flinch, you notice. Bucky does watch you work, though. His eyes are set on your gloved hands and for a split second you allow yourself a glimpse back. There's dirt on his temple and his hair sticks to his damp forehead, in messy knots. You fight the urge to put it back in its place, comb the rubble out if he'd allow it.

"You have steady hands," Bucky comments once you're done with the final knot. It takes a lot not to blush. You probably do anyway, but conveniently enough you have to turn around to put the suture kit back.

"Uh- thank you. The stitches will need to be pulled in a few days. Now, if it's okay by you I would like to do a general check up?"  
You snap on a new pair of gloves and the sound of latex hitting skin rings through the sterile room. Bucky lays back down, staring up at the gray ceiling fan with dead eyes. "Do as you wish, doctor."  
His scarred chest rises and falls with steady breaths as you listen for his heartbeat. It's stable, and strong, mimicking it's exterior shell, a mass of muscle and sweat.

"Can I open these?" You point to the straps. The words are out of your mouth before you even knew where you're going with this. Maybe you're just sick of seeing him lay there like this.

"You asking me if I'll behave? _Da._ "

This just there was probably the 'real' Bucky shining through. Or so you'd imagine, not that you'll ever know for sure. Hydra makes sure to keep a steady rotation of physicians when it comes to Bucky, never allowing anyone to get too close to him for a longer period of time. You turn the key to open his straps and he bolts up, just to stretch his arms out, yet it's enough to make you twitch back from him.

"Can you strip down to your underwear?"

He doesn't move but he doesn't question you either. You question yourself, honestly, but there is probably some way for you to turn this into a medical exam. Or twist it just enough to make it plausible to your own brain.

When Bucky realises you're not going to turn around for this he pulls down his pants in front of you and oh- he bears a little more than you asked him too.

"Tha- that wasn't necessary," you say hastily, looking for a towel or _something_ to cover him with but he only sits back down, legs dangling over the floor. Suddenly he made it that much harder for you to touch him. You remind yourself that you're a doctor, and you saw it all, and you won't get aroused no matter how big he might be down there.

Bucky grins at you through the whole thing, enjoys every single second of your discomfort.

You don't know when exactly your touch becomes something more than just thorough work, when expertise turns to soft caresses, but it does.

You brush over his neck, middle and index finger feeling for his lymph knots. There's that steady pulse again, firing away under your touch. And there's his jawline, too, sharp and ending in a square, and Bucky looks down at you expectantly as emphasized by the growing length between his legs but you just turn to your notepad, scribble down nothings onto paper to calm yourself down.

“Open your mouth for me,” you say, your own mouth dry like sandpaper.

Wooden sticks are replaced by your own gloved fingers as you push his tongue down to inspect his throat. Even through the layer of latex hit tongue feels wet and warm against your skin. It catches you off-guard when he twirls his tongue around your fingers, and _sucks_ on them but oh when he does-

You quickly pull out and draw in a sharp breath. Bucky is fully grown now, his length pressed up to his stomach, almost reaching up to his belly button. He ignores it, lets his hand fall down on his thigh right next to it. “I think you forgot to check my prostate, doctor.”

The look on his face doesn't leave you any choice. _Bucky_ doesn't leave you any choice, because he's already up on his fours and spread open on the gurney, ready. A pop and a squirt. Cold lube hits your fingers and you spread it around with your thumb before you put some more on his hole. The cool gel makes Bucky let out a shaky breath, and something tells you this part of the inspection is more regular than anyone at Hydra is willing to talk about.

It's Bucky who pushes your finger inside. He slides himself onto it, and begs for a second, says he's sure it will make it easier to find the part you need to inspect, and he's right, you find his prostate, and you push, and-

Bucky's walls clench around your fingers, and they do so again and again, with each twist of your fingertips. You play him like clockwork as he lays there, head propped on his arm, hair hanging down. A third finger joins the others without warning, and Bucky's definitely not accustomed to that because it actually makes him moan and shake and-

Bucky comes, walls clenching around you one last time as he spills his seed all over the black gurney.

 

 


	3. Teasing - Sebastian Stan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need an AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos or Comments on a fic you liked! Enjoy

Sebastian is sitting in a director's chair right in front of you. His legs are spread wide open, a subtle invitation with an expectant look on his face. One of his hands lazily hovers over his crotch, barely touching the fabric of his jeans, hesitant to grab his own bulge but willing if you won't pick up on the hints. But it's there, hard to deny, throbbing against its restraints. It's definitely wrong to think of your boss in that way but it makes your mouth water to just see the outline of his shaft and- fuck. You swallow hard because you know you are screwed, maybe both literally and figuratively.

Because your job as his personal assistant was what, two weeks in? Three? This, what he was asking of you now in that chair, was definitely not in the contract you signed. Not that you wouldn't sign it if it had been. And honestly, if you look past all the complications that are sure to come up because of this moment in the future, it's quite a win-win for you because you get to earn money and suck Sebastian off.

“What are you waiting for?”

Sebastian sounds a little impatient, shifts in his seat. Long, brown hair is pulled up in a messy bun because he's growing it out for the new Avengers movie. You like him like this. Then again, you like him in most looks.

Instead of giving him an answer you simply start to crawl forward. Your hands slide up the sides of his thighs, further and further. Nails catch on the fabric of his jeans as you scratch him, but the scrape of it makes him let out a long, shaky breath. The room crackles with anticipation as you grab for his zipper and take him out, not able to hold yourself back any longer.

Sebastian's dick feels warm in your hands, and when you squeeze his shaft softly with your hands, Sebastian's mouth falls open. It's only a centimeter or so, but it's enough for you to see his wet tongue glisten. Oh, how badly you want to sit down on that lap and kiss him just then. It's not what he asked you to do, though. With Sebastian it's all about obedience. Still, there is hardly anything wrong with a little teasing?

“You like that?”

You pull his foreskin back waiting for a nod. Precum pools at his head and you spread it around with your thumb a bit, rub it over Sebastian's slit and- his gasp almost swallows his words but he breathes out a 'fuck yes' as you give him another tight squeeze.

“Then we're in for a good time.”


	4. Bodily Fluids - Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need an AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos or Comments on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

**FEMALE POV**

The two of you take the stairs by the two, eager, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. Bucky laughs, slaps your ass to urge you on but it only makes you drop your keys.

“Stop it,” you giggle, hit his shoulder maybe just a little too hard.

Bucky's hair is done up in a bun and held in place with a sweatband with an American flag on it because he's _that guy_ now. Only one strand slipped past it during the run and is now hanging there, a defiant mess right between his eyes. That's what happens when someone decides to run twice the speed of an average human – and apparently he was slowing down for you, too. At least he broke a sweat.

You fumble with your keys again, struggle to fit the right key in the hole, Bucky's mouth a too big distraction, leaving soft, wet kisses against the nape of your neck. His hips are at fault too, grinding against your ass like that, his bulge so hard in those skimpy shorts of his.

“Bucky _please_ ,” you groan in frustration, catching the keys for the trillionth time before they drop back down again.

Bucky simply growls against your ear, kissing your cheek. “Hurry up, then.”  
A neighbour shoots the two of you a dirty look. Bucky doesn't even bother to pull back, that horny bastard.

Finally, you manage to open the door before that old lady calls the police, or even worse, takes a few snapshots for TMZ or some other tabloid.

The two of you stumble into your apartment, Bucky's weight pressing forward. At some point he manages to turn you around , his mouth on yours, moaning into you as his tongue comes home. You're not sure which one of you does it but the door slams shut with the keys already clattering to the floor somewhere.

Bucky's metal arm feels hot against your skin, burning with the heat it absorbed from the summer sun. The wince you try to bite back comes out as a whiny gasp, and it makes Bucky bite down on your lip that much harder. His teeth pierce through skin and draw blood but he simply licks up the few drops. “You taste good,” he murmurs, running his hands down to the small of your back. Slick sweat makes it slide down more smoothly, wettening his fingers in the process.

“Buck, why don't we take a shower first.”

“Let's not,” he answers, pushing your hands up his chest. They both come away soaking wet. They smell and they taste like salt and Bucky but he pushes your fingers into your own mouth to taste him. For some reason it puts coal to the fire down below, makes you want to taste more. Suddenly it's all around you, or you just notice it now, but Bucky's pungent smell is basically exploding in the room and- “Shirt. Off.”

The two of you do as you tell him to, throwing clothes at eachother. You catch his shirt. It's damp and when you put it up to your face there's that intoxicating smell again, and you can't help but take a whiff or two. Every moan slips right through the fabric, gets swallowed up by Bucky's scent.

Bucky, who's making a move on you, waiting but then giving in and sliding his fingers down your pants and over your clit.

There's a new piece of clothing for you to smell, his shorts, even stronger than the shirt and holy fucking shit you can't take him just all over your clit like that you need to taste him, to feel him, to-

You fall into his arms, licking and biting, urged on by the sensory overload that just screams Bucky.

It's his voice in your ear, whispering dirty secrets and promises, and it's his smell, strong and not leaving your side. The only thing better than that is his taste, and touch, every flick of his finger, every rub and roll. “You're so wet baby,” he moans putting his hand up to his mouth, sucking on his fingers loud and dirty. “So good.”

In a turn you're sitting on his face, your lips touching his, and he immediately licks up, not wasting an opportunity, and neither are you. Puckered lips kiss his cock, lick up whatever's leaking out of it because he tastes so _divine._

Bucky's metal fingers join his tongue, as they press and rub over your clit, push all the right buttons to urge you on that much more. You swallow inch after inch until Bucky hits the back of your throat, making you gag for air and sat there like this with his tongue all inside of you and his fingers just _there_ \- you can practically feel the orgasm build up at the back of your throat and you want Bucky to come too. You lick and suck, bob your head up and down until he's moaning into you like a sinner on his knees and “I- fu- _ah-_ ”  
Warm come spurts out onto your tongue, so much so that you have to pull away, not keeping up with the load. Some of it hits your face, as Bucky tenses up under you, moans choked by your weight on him.

 

**MALE POV**

The two of you take the stairs by the two, eager, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. Bucky laughs, slaps your ass to urge you on but it only makes you drop your keys.

“Stop it,” you giggle, hit his shoulder maybe just a little too hard.

Bucky's hair is done up in a bun and held in place with a sweatband with an American flag on it because he's _that guy_ now. Only one strand slipped past it during the run and is now hanging there, a defiant mess right between his eyes. That's what happens when someone decides to run twice the speed of an average human – and apparently he was slowing down for you, too. At least he broke a sweat.

You fumble with your keys again, struggle to fit the right key in the hole, Bucky's mouth a too big distraction, leaving soft, wet kisses against the nape of your neck. His hips are at fault too, grinding against your ass like that, his bulge so hard in those skimpy shorts of his.

“Bucky _please_ ,” you groan in frustration, catching the keys for the trillionth time before they drop back down again.

Bucky simply growls against your ear, kissing your cheek. “Hurry up, then.”  
A neighbour shoots the two of you a dirty look. Bucky doesn't even bother to pull back, that horny bastard.

Finally, you manage to open the door before that old lady calls the police, or even worse, takes a few snapshots for TMZ or some other tabloid.

The two of you stumble into your apartment, Bucky's weight pressing forward. At some point he manages to turn you around , his mouth on yours, moaning into you as his tongue comes home. You're not sure which one of you does it but the door slams shut with the keys already clattering to the floor somewhere.

Bucky's metal arm feels hot against your skin, burning with the heat it absorbed from the summer sun. The wince you try to bite back comes out as a whiny gasp, and it makes Bucky bite down on your lip that much harder. His teeth pierce through skin and draw blood but he simply licks up the few drops. “You taste good,” he murmurs, running his hands down to the small of your back. Slick sweat makes it slide down more smoothly, wettening his fingers in the process.

“Buck, why don't we take a shower first.”

“Let's not,” he answers, pushing your hands up his chest. They both come away soaking wet. They smell and they taste like salt and Bucky but he pushes your fingers into your own mouth to taste him. For some reason it puts coal to the fire down below, makes you want to taste more. Suddenly it's all around you, or you just notice it now, but Bucky's pungent smell is basically exploding in the room and- “Shirt. Off.”

The two of you do as you tell him to, throwing clothes at eachother. You catch his shirt. It's damp and when you put it up to your face there's that intoxicating smell again, and you can't help but take a whiff or two. Every moan slips right through the fabric, gets swallowed up by Bucky's scent.

Bucky, who's making a move on you, waiting but then giving in and sliding his fingers down your pants and over your shaft.

There's a new piece of clothing for you to smell, his shorts, even stronger than the shirt and holy fucking shit you can't take him just all over your cock like that you need to taste him, to feel him, to-

You fall into his arms, licking and biting, urged on by the sensory overload that just screams Bucky.

It's his voice in your ear, whispering dirty secrets and promises, and it's his smell, strong and not leaving your side. The only thing better than that is his taste, and touch, every flick of his finger, every rub and roll. “You're so wet baby,” he moans putting his hand up to his mouth, sucking on his fingers loud and dirty. “So good.”

In a turn you're sitting on his face, your rim touching his lips, and he immediately licks up, not wasting an opportunity, and neither are you. Puckered lips kiss his cock, lick up whatever's leaking out of it because he tastes so _divine._

Bucky's metal fingers join his tongue, as they press and rub over your hole, push all the right buttons to urge you on that much more. You swallow inch after inch until Bucky hits the back of your throat, making you gag for air and sat there like this with his tongue all inside of you and his fingers just _there_ \- you can practically feel the orgasm build up at the back of your throat and you want Bucky to come too. You lick and suck, bob your head up and down until he's moaning into you like a sinner on his knees and “I- fu- _ah-_ ”  
Warm come spurts out onto your tongue, so much so that you have to pull away, not keeping up with the load. Some of it hits your face, as Bucky tenses up under you, moans choked by your weight on him. There's just enough energy in him to flick his wrist once, twice until you shoot your load all over him too, making an even bigger mess out of Bucky than he already is.

 


	5. Sex at a wildly inappropriate location - Sebastian Stan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need an AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos or Comments on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

It was Sebastian's idea to fly commercial. He said it's good to mingle with other people now and again. Besides: “The seats in commercial are way more comfortable. Trust me!” (This was a blatant lie. You are pretty sure Sebastian just loves to see kids faces glow the minute they spot him and match the face to the role of Bucky.) Maybe you were just too spoiled by Sebastian and the recent first-class trips, who knows. Commercial certainly didn't bother you before him. Hell, sometimes you didn't even have money to fly at all, so who are you to complain.

The cold AC blows into your face. You crank it up, desperate for some much needed cooling-down. Seb's fingers are laced with yours, by now glued together by the sheen of sweat. Take-off was somewhat rough and you clutched to your seat with eyes pressed closed and the hope of it stopping at the back of your mind.

Now you're sitting comfortably with a bag of peanuts between your legs and Gone Girl playing into your right ear, and into Seb's left one. You've seen it already, and you're bored out of your mind, and there is that one particular scene with Nick and Amy in the library that sort of gives you an idea and...

“Babe.” You nudge Sebastian to the side, making his dozed-off self jump slightly as he turns to look at you, disheveled hair and all. “I'm bored.”  
“Wanna read?,” he offers, tapping a magazine he has sprawled out on his lap, a girl with a bright red spot on her cheek smiling right back at you from its pages.

“Pass.”  
You let your other hand fall on Sebastian's thigh, and circle your fingers over the fabric. Once, twice, moving up to enter dangerously-too-obscene-PDA-grounds. Sebastian shifts in his seat a little, at least fully awake now. “What are you doing?” The soft smile of his softens his accusatory tone. “We can't.” Now more amused. “Not here.”

You lean in even closer than he already has to you, so close that you can smell his after-shave, and a hint of travel-sweat. It really is too damn hot in this airplane. “I'll wait for you in the restroom.”

With a wink you leave your seat and dip past the door into a small cubicle. As you turn the lock on the door the little green light overhead turns red. OCCUPIED.

It's a damn prison cell, too small, cramped-

Someone knocks on the door. You wait, heart pounding up to your throat, but it's Sebastian, whispering into the door from outside, “It's me, babe, open u-”  
He half-stumbles into the room because he was pressed up against the door when you open it. There's this awkward moment in which the two of you are sandwiched between the door and the wall and you're not sure if it's Sebastian's elbow or the handle that's digging into your side, until Sebastian makes the green light turn red again and the two of you find a moment to rearrange.

“Fuck,” Sebastian chuckles, running a hand over his face to wipe off his cold sweat. “This is so wild, _you_ are so wild, I mean a bathroom? And on a plane?”

You pull him in by the belt, face inches away from his, “How about less talking and more fucking.”

Sebastian tastes sweet, a hint of Pepsi still on his tongue, exploring the crevices of your mouth. You suck on his bottom lip, hard enough to make it look as bright red as the light above, blood rushing to it in an instant. “Fuck,” Sebastian moans, almost too loud for the little room you are in. Though you're not one to talk, because the minute he puts those same lips to your neck and starts sucking you lose it, too, and a moan slips past your lips.

Nervous hands fumble with Sebastian's zipper, try to jerk it free while he unbuttons your shirt. There's no time for pleasantries right now, no time for soft murmurs and slow kisses, you want to feel Sebastian inside of you and you want him now. You tell him as much, lick it into his ear only to make him gag for it and push you up against the wall, press himself against you to tease right before he sticks it inside.

All your weight is pressed up against the wall, wedged right over the sink and he's crashing into you, thrusting his hips forward so hard you are scared it might break the sink and flood this goddamn airplane and then you'd get busted and-

For some reason the thought of getting caught turns you on, makes you moan just a little bit louder again. Inhibitions fly out of the window and you let yourself go, enjoy the closeness of it, the cramped space forcing you to be right there with Sebastian, with everything touching everything and it's too good. “Come for me, baby,” you urge him on, your hand caught somewhere in his hair, tugging. “Come, please, please, _please._ ”

 


	6. Explaining their wildly inappropriate relationship - Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need an AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos or Comments on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

**FEMALE POV**

You know it's inappropriate to listen into Bucky's conversation with his therapist, but after he mentioned to you that you were one of the subjects on their list you simply couldn't help yourself. So here you are, a glass pressed up against the wooden door, trying your best to catch every word Bucky is saying.

It wasn't all too interesting so far. The usual things, PTSD, Steve, Hydra, nothing you don't already know from your time spend with Bucky. They just got done talking about the dream he has had the last time he slept over at your place, which is also how his therapist managed to steer him to the next topic on her list: You.

“She is your...” The therapist starts, her pause indicating she wants Bucky to fill in the blank, not that she doesn't know it.

“Partner, I guess you can call 'er that.”

He mumbles something after that but you don't quite get it.

“Steve Rogers grandniece is also a word for it, yes. Does it bother you, Bucky?”

A chair is being dragged over the wooden slats. An abrupt sound of someone getting ready to leave. Nothing happens, though. Instead Bucky grunts out a “Why would it?”  
“Because she _is_ your Steve's _grandniece._ He was, as far as I understood correctly, for a long time your best, if not only, friend. A partner in life, if one would want to put it that way. It's perfectly normal for you to have conflicting thoughts about the relationship you are leading with her, or the reasoning behind it.”  
“And the reasoning behind that would be _what_ exactly?”

You can practically taste the spite in Bucky's words, and for some reason it makes your heart flutter to hear him talk so defensively of you, even if it's only implied so far. What is this therapist getting at anyway? That your relationship is weird, and non-conforming in some ways? Unethical? So what. Being frozen and unfrozen on will, only to be brainwashed into killing innocent people is the reason Bucky needs therapy. You are not on the list of reasons why Bucky is how he is.

“Well,” the therapist continues, “did you ever think about the fact that maybe – and I'm going out on a limb here – she might be a placeholder for Steve? Because you lost him so soon, and now that he's gone-”  
"I'm sorry to interrupt you like this," Bucky says, clearly agitated, "but that's bullshit. You want to know the reason why I'm with her?"

The therapist probably nods because Bucky's voice continues, booms through the room as he speaks.

"I'm with her because she drives me fucking crazy. There hasn't been anyone since Steve, and I do mean anyone, that made me feel all this mixed up emotion, that- that longing need to care for her and at the same time fuck her senseless,” _Oh._ “I'm screwed up in most parts, no need to reiterate that, I know it more than you and anyone else in this freakin' county, and yes maybe her being Steve's grandniece is weird but it's fuckin' hot, too. She rides me like a damn pony any time she well pleases, I make her squirt and squirm; I mark her as mine and she does so, too. Honestly, if it weren't for her I'm not even sure I'd be into this whole Avenging thing, my old boy Steve certainly hung up his shield once or twice before, I considered following into his footsteps. But I stood by, and I woke up day in day out, because she is there for me. Whatever we have, her and I, works pretty well for me, so please doctor, do not come for the only part that's good right now, unless you want to hear more about how good she makes me feel, yes? Let's move on then.”

 

**MALE POV**

You know it's inappropriate to listen into Bucky's conversation with his therapist, but after he mentioned to you that you were one of the subjects on their list you simply couldn't help yourself. So here you are, a glass pressed up against the wooden door, trying your best to catch every word Bucky is saying.

It wasn't all too interesting so far. The usual things, PTSD, Steve, Hydra, nothing you don't already know from your time spend with Bucky. They just got done talking about the dream he has had the last time he slept over at your place, which is also how his therapist managed to steer him to the next topic on her list: You.

“He is your...” The therapist starts, her pause indicating she wants Bucky to fill in the blank, not that she doesn't know it.

“Partner, I guess you can call 'im that.”

He mumbles something after that but you don't quite get it.

“Steve Rogers grandnephew is also a word for it, yes. Does it bother you, Bucky?”

A chair is being dragged over the wooden slats. An abrupt sound of someone getting ready to leave. Nothing happens, though. Instead Bucky grunts out a “Why would it?”  
“Because he _is_ your Steve's _grandnephew._ Steve was, as far as I understood correctly, for a long time your best, if not only, friend. A partner in life, if one would want to put it that way. It's perfectly normal for you to have conflicting thoughts about the relationship you are leading with him, or the reasoning behind it.”  
“And the reasoning behind that would be _what_ exactly?”

You can practically taste the spite in Bucky's words, and for some reason it makes your heart flutter to hear him talk so defensively of you, even if it's only implied so far. What is this therapist getting at anyway? That your relationship is weird, and non-conforming in some ways? Unethical? So what. Being frozen and unfrozen on will, only to be brainwashed into killing innocent people is the reason Bucky needs therapy. You are not on the list of reasons why Bucky is how he is.

“Well,” the therapist continues, “did you ever think about the fact that maybe – and I'm going out on a limb here – he might be a placeholder for Steve? Because you lost him so soon, and now that he's gone-”  
"I'm sorry to interrupt you like this," Bucky says, clearly agitated, "but that's bullshit. You want to know the reason why I'm with him?"

The therapist probably nods because Bucky's voice continues, booms through the room as he speaks.

"I'm with him because she drives me fucking crazy. There hasn't been anyone since Steve, and I do mean anyone, that made me feel all this mixed up emotion, that- that longing need to care for him and at the same time fuck him senseless,” _Oh._ “I'm screwed up in most parts, no need to reiterate that, I know it more than you and anyone else in this freakin' county, and yes maybe him being Steve's grandnephew is weird but it's fuckin' hot, too. He rides me like a damn pony any time he well pleases, I make him squirt and squirm; I mark him as mine and he does so, too. Honestly, if it weren't for him I'm not even sure I'd be into this whole Avenging thing, my old boy Steve certainly hung up his shield once or twice before, I considered following into his footsteps. But I stood by, and I woke up day in day out, because he is there for me. Whatever we have, him and I, works pretty well for me, so please doctor, do not come for the only part that's good right now, unless you want to hear more about how good he makes me feel, yes? Let's move on then.”

 


	7. Corsets - Sebastian Stan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need an AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos or Comments on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

Sebastian's text this morning was pretty ominous. All it said was: 'Wait for me in my trailer. Have a surprise for you ;-)'.

Since Angela let you off work early you get to set pretty much on time. The trailer is still empty when you walk in. There's not much there, except for a pretty spacious bed, a table and some novel spread out open on the bed. You leaf through it but can't really concentrate on any of the words, the excitement finally getting to you. Whatever Sebastian has in store for you, it's gotta be something kinky. He's been teasing you for weeks and the porn the two of you browsed through wasn't necessarily considered vanilla which only opened up all the more possibilities. As you lay there, with silky sheets tangled under your body you smell the pillow, catching a faint whiff of Sebastian's cologne.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

You didn't notice when Sebastian came in but he is standing in the doorway, one arm prepped on the side.

“No, no, stay there,” he says, walking towards you. His eyes are locked with yours, enough to start a flaming rage inside of you, deep down. It's been too long and he looks this good.

Slowly, Sebastian pulls his shirt over his head only to reveal a black and blue corset wrapped around his mid-riff, barely managing to cover anything. The slightly too-thin fabric sticks to Sebastian's muscles like a second skin, showing off just enough to leave a hint to your imagination. You want to say something but you're not sure what, too taken aback and aroused by this unexpected display of, well, fuck you're not sure where this came from but you're not complaining. It's just the beginning of Sebastian's surprise, though, because he is already working on the buckle of his belt, leather sliding through the hoops of his jeans and falling to the floor.

With Sebastian's pants your inhibitions drop as well, and you can't help but to pull him closer, not leaving any time to properly take in the sight of Sebastian wearing nothing but that corset and what appears to be a pair of silky blue panties with a visible outline of his bulge peeking through them. “Just,” you stammer against his belly button, lips brushing over the hairs of his happy trail. “Fuck.” Sebastian sinks down to kiss you, mouth crashing hard, mattress creaking under the weight of the two of you rolling around from one side to the other.

Once you're undressed and Sebastian's all the way up inside of you, he's still dressed in black and blue, panties drooped just enough to pull out his cock enough to fuck you. As he thrusts up, you can feel the soft fabric of the underwear tickle the insides of your thighs, each grind pushing another gust of air out of your lungs.

It doesn't take you long to come, and with your urging moans Sebastian soon follows you into the orgasm, coming inside of you, his whole body shaking, muscles vibrating through the layer of corset fabric.

Even after he comes, he stays inside of you for a while, too out of it to move away. You don't mind though, enjoying the last of the corset while it's still on.

"Will you keep this on until we get home?," you ask him, covers pulled up to your chin as he lays next to you – on top of the covers. Still wearing the corset and panties. 

"Whatever you want, baby."

"You kind of dig it, don't you?"

There is a slight pause that is enough to answer your question. But Sebastian does answer, with a hint of a chuckle in his voice. "I kind of do, baby. Let's just say maybe today isn't our last kinky adventure."

"Oh, I'm sure about that."


	8. Anal/Pure Fucking - Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need an AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos or Comments on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

When Bucky first knocked on your door you honestly didn't know what to make of it. After your last... encounter he didn't even bother to grace you with a text, much less an explanation back at HQ. Maybe he is still adjusting to the next century, but a: Steve, Tony and Natasha have all showed Bucky how to use his cellphones on multiple occasions and b: all of the trauma aside, it doesn't excuse him being a dick to you.

Still groggy from being woken up at- your digital clock tells you – 3 o'something in the morning, you open the door, only to find him right on the mat. Again. "Bucky, wha-," You bite back a yawn, "what are you doing here?"

Bucky doesn't answer. He looks like a mess, hair sticky, unkempt. Wet, even, you're not sure if from running or from the rain. He just pushes past you into the living room, the smell of liquor hitting you straight in the face. "Bucky, what is going on?"

"I need you," he rasps out, already working on the zipper of his jacket, shrugging it off to the floor. His shirt soon follows, leaving him bare-chested, breathing heavily.

Still confused about this whole situation, you consider calling Steve or Sam to pick Bucky up but you remember that you left your phone hooked to the charger in your bedroom. A way that is currently blocked by a mass of drunken body mass. And although it's wrong and he's drunk, the sight of him standing there like that, mouth open and chest bare – it brings back memories. The two of you stumbling into the back alley behind the bar, cold brick wall making the back of your thighs sting as Bucky tried to kiss all of it away, his tongue working you open to make both of you forget everything for a fraction of the time Bucky has lost. How much you'd give for a second chance. Out of all the people, he came to you, that's got to mean something, right? Besides, you remember reading that drunk people often do things their sober selves lacked the courage to do. Maybe Bucky is trying to make it up to you? He certainly is willing, by the sight of the bulge pressed against his black briefs. When did he lose the pants, anyway?

"Bucky, I think-"  
"I need you. _Please._ " He walks over to the couch, his metal arm hanging there without movement. In fact, you're pretty sure it's broken. The things that metal arm was able to do, oh boy...

 _Fuck it,_ you think, _I'm going to hell either way, aren't I._

Bucky's smile is groggy, hazed by the drinks he has had, but he's there enough to realise that you opening your robe means you've set your mind on it. "Got'cha," he chuckles, pulling his briefs down to his thighs, his dick springing free.

It's hard to ignore the smell of alcohol on him, the taste of it as he let's his tongue melt with yours, kissing you deeper than he has before, with a desperation that wasn't there the night the two of you first fucked.

Bucky's breaths are shaky as you take him in, inch after inch disappearing into your stretched hole. Usually guys rarely get to fuck you _back there_ but with Bucky it's something else. You love the burn of it, the feeling of him stretching you open, making you work for it. And whilst he's drunk you find yourself in a similar state, fucking yourself open, losing yourself in his touch. There is a timeless state of bliss as you and Bucky grind together in a dissynchronized way. Maybe it's because he's drunk or because you finally want it but it takes so _long_ for both of you to come, neither wanting it to end to soon. As he comes inside of you, finally hitting that sweet spot, his voice breaks for good, the moan he lets out loud enough to wake your next door neighbours. "Fuckfuck _fuck,_ " he gasps, lapping some of the come leaking out of your ass with his fingers, guiding them to your mouth. With some hesitation, you lick them clean and sink down for a long kiss.

"I'm gonna go to hell for this," you whisper into his chest as the two of you settle into your bed. It's a few hours later and Bucky has already dozed off into the land of the dreaming, clearly indicated by the loud snores of his. "But maybe it is worth it for you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments on the fic so far!!!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all enjoy march a little more now!  
> Twitter: @khoshek tumblr: dogphood.tumblr.com


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